At Peace Once More
by Melody Syper Carston
Summary: Migraines...sucked ass, Alfred decided as he curled up tighter under the multitudes of blankets. And yet, with Arthur laying next to him, they were a little bit more bearable. Oneshot. Slight USUK


**At Peace Once More  
****By: Melody Syper Carston**

**A/N: Hello, Hetalia Fandom, I haven't abandoned you yet! I've just been fandom hopping is all (blame the Homestuck hiatus for making me step back and remember all of my old fandoms). Anyway, as always when it comes to sickfics, Melody has caught something or other and is pouring out frustrations into her characters. This time it's a sore throat, and lemme tell ya, my voice. Is shot. Gone. Nothing left but a raspy little whisper right now. And I've coughed my throat raw. But I'm hanging on for dear life! Only 10 more days of school and then I'll be out for the summer!**

Oneshot: Rubik's Cube

"_The world is too heavy, too big for my shoulders; come take the weight off me, now. Thousands of answers, for one simple question; come take the weight off me, now. I'm like a kid who just won't let it go, twisting and turning the colours in rows, I'm so intent to find out what it is. This is my Rubik's Cube… I know I can figure it out." –Rubik's Cube by Athlete_

Migraines _sucked_ _ass_, Alfred decided as he curled up into a tighter ball under the multitudes of blankets and pillows. He felt as though he had been hit by a train, even the slightest jostle sent jolts of pain down every nerve in his body. And whenever he tried to sit up, his stomach would twist in the most nauseating way. While he wanted nothing more than to squeeze his burning eyes shut against the light still filtering through the thick blanket s, the very thought made his head ache more, thinking of the added pressure just made him feel even more miserable than he already was.

It wasn't too often that the personification of the United States of America developed these awful migraines, but on the rare chance that he did, they were always wretched things that would last for days on end, showing no mercy as days progressed.

And, when thinking back on it as he lay there curled up under those thick blankets and multiple pillows, he probably should have seen it coming for him.

It had developed during a world conference, when the other nations were bickering just as they always had. Usually, Alfred would have thrown in his own two-cents about whatever it was they were arguing about this time, but with recent events occurring in his own country, America was still suffering from the fatigue of carrying the dragging weight of his country on his shoulders. He just felt so out of it, and this meeting was doing nothing but adding more stress to his already frazzled nerves.

As the arguing got louder and more out of control, Alfred could feel the warning signs of a headache beginning to fog his mind, blurring his vision slightly, slurring it around the edges and sprinkling it with bright white pinpoints of light that danced to and fro.

He needed to leave or this was only going to get worse, but Alfred being the stubborn person he was, stayed right where he was, merely pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and attempting to rub away the blurred vision.

"America, are you alright?" Someone—Alfred wasn't sure who and he really didn't feel like removing his hands from his eyes in order to figure it out—asked. The other nation sounded so muffled, as if they were speaking through cotton, but Alfred managed to understand them enough to just barely catch the waver of concern shooting through the voice.

And suddenly, the entire room was near silent; Alfred could only imagine every single nation freezing where they were in their midst of strangling each other, fingers still wrapped—albeit, now loosely—around the other's neck, with their heads turned towards him, waiting for his answer.

Alfred slowly removed his hands from his eyes, and damn when had the light gotten so bright? He squinted against the rough halos of light, filtering from the fluorescent bulbs above the group.

Arthur was standing a few feet away from Alfred, worry creasing his rather prominent eyebrows. He hesitated only momentarily before he repeated the question he had asked moments ago: "Are you alright?"

Slowly, as if not comprehending the question, the younger nation shook his head, letting out a small groan as the movement created a wave of nausea.

Arthur's jaw set and he seemed to come to some descisio9n in his head because he turned back towards the other nations, still frozen in their battles, to announce that, "I'm calling this meeting to an early end and putting it off until further notice. I think we could all use a break from each other. We all know that we are going to get absolutely nothing done, so while not call it closed and move on until our next meet?"

For a short pause, the room seemed to consider this offer, a few of the more work savvy nations looking absolutely horrified at the thought of cutting _yet another_ meeting short while some of the more absent minded ones were already moving to pack their things and leave. Soon, they were all moving to retrieve their notes and jackets and other belongings, migrating towards the door and filtering out slowly but surely.

Once they had all cleared the room, Arthur turned back to the young superpower, reaching out to gently brush blonde fringe from his forehead. As his fingers skimmed Alfred's skin, he felt the American lean into the touch with a weary sigh. "How many hours of sleep have you gotten this week?" Arthur murmured, keeping his voice barely above a whisper for the sake of the suffering nation in front of him.

Alfred shrugged, movements lethargic, sluggish. "Five…?" he whispered back, unsure. He had spent so many nights staring up at the hotel ceiling and simply listening to his the cries of his people, feeling the stress of trying to deal with too many tragic events all at once that he had lost track of when and if he ever went to bed some nights. Had he fallen asleep the night before…? Or had that been another night of dents in walls and cracks in ceilings? He couldn't be sure. The days seemed to slur together in the most confusing way these days.

Arthur scoffed before taking the American by the forearm and hauling him to his feet. When Alfred stumbled with a long and drawn out groan, the Brit skillfully settled his arms around the younger blonde's waist, steadying the other enough to half drag, half escort him back to his hotel room. "Al… I need your key card."

Alfred blinked, searching his pockets until he located the piece of plastic. He slid it into Arthur's expectant hand. A sudden chill passed over him, sending violent shivers skittering down his spine

Arthur pushed his way through the door, leading the younger towards the bedroom before gently helping him strip down to his boxers. He made sure the other was under the blankets before he began moving around the room to close all of the curtains and turn off all of the lights in the vicinity. He then navigated through the darkness towards the closet and grabbed as many blankets and pillows as he could carry, traipsing back to into the room. He was quick to cover the still shivering Alfred, and piling the pillows against the headboard. "Have you eaten anything today?" He asked slowly, quietly.

A hesitant shake of the head: No.

"You should eat something, Al. You know that a lack of food just makes your migraines worse. Do you want me to make you anything?"

Another no.

"Do you want anything?"

"Aspirin…?" Alfred's voice was no more than a soft rasp.

There was a long pause on Arthur's part, and Alfred figured he hadn't heard him and was still waiting for an answer, but he didn't have enough energy to repeat himself. He felt so suddenly drained and his head was throbbing terribly and the voices of his people were just _too_ loud, and _god_ was he miserable.

But then Arthur was touching his back, gently, so as not to startle him into moving too quickly and Alfred slowly popped his head out from under the mounds of blankets to find Arthur holding a bottle of aspirin and a cup of tea outstretched for Alfred to take.

Alfred gave him a tight-lipped-but-grateful smile, uncapping the bottle and popping three pills into his mouth before taking the proffered tea and washing them down. He attempted to set the rest of the tea down on the bedside table since he had never been a fan of the stuff anyway, but Arthur stopped him.

"You need to drink all of it, Al."

The younger had no energy to protest. Lifting the cup to drain the rest of its contents. Once it was empty, he set it aside and crawled back under the blankets.

"Now, rest, love. I'll be in the next room if you need me, alright?"

_Love_. Alfred nodded once in response. Arthur hadn't called him 'love' since he had been a mere colony. Ages ago. He had forgotten how much he had adored the term. And then he was feeling exhausted and sleep was tugging him down, down, down, into sweet, sweet oblivion.

**X~*~X**

Alfred awoke to fingers carding through his hair, and he had to admit, it felt nice. He sighed quietly, relaxing into the feel of Arthur's thin fingers moving through his short blonde hair, tugging ever so slightly in a way that relieved tension and brought short waves of relief through his aching head. He could feel the bed shift as Arthur changed positions, dipping in a more equally distributed way as Arthur slid under the blankets next to Alfred, never once stopping his ministrations. Alfred didn't bother opening his eyes, opting to nuzzle closer, until his nose bumped against Arthur's bare collarbone.

"How's your head, love?" Arthur whispered, letting the hand travelling through Alfred hair trail down the base of his neck and up again to rest behind his ear. His thumb stroked absentmindedly against the short blonde hairs there.

A hum and then a rumble of, "Not as bad."

"That's a good thing." There was a short pause after Arthur's reply before Alfred felt a pair of lips pressing tender, repetitive kisses to the top of his head; a hand running gentle, comforting circles across his back; and a soft, slender leg pushed between his own.

With slow precision, he reached up and pressed a kiss of his own to the Arthur's jaw, a smile tugging on his lips as he did so. He curled up against the Briton, arms huddled between their chests and forehead once more pressing against the elder's collarbone. And though his migraine was far from over, he felt at peace for the first time in three very long, very stressful months.

**X~*~X**

**A/N: I'm coming up on three years and my goal is 40 fics by then so I need like… requests or something! July 27 is my third anniversary! It would be really great if I could get to 50 by then; do you know how happy I'd be if I got that many fics done in such a short time?**

**Anyway, Reviews, Favourites and what not are appreciated! Requests will be **_**greatly**_** appreciated!**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


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